Hogwarts: 2017 And Beyond
by AmandatoryRed
Summary: This is my take on the entire next generation. Follow not just one or two, but ALL of the Potter-Weasleys through their time at Hogwarts! Reviews, comments, and suggestions are all quite welcome. This should be K-T throughout the story, but on the slight chance it becomes an M, the rating will be changed.


_The following takes place immediately after the final chapter of 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows'._

The Hogwarts Express and an Odd Sort  


The Hogwarts Express had only just departed, but already the cabin Rose occupied had filled with her relatives. Victoire was nowhere to be found—probably because she was still embarrassed, thanks to James, Rose thought—but every other Potter or Weasley had somehow found their way into the now-cramped compartment. Albus looked as if he wasn't sure whether to be uncomfortable or excited. Rose had tried to open her copy of _A History of Magic_, but even after only a few minutes of being on the train, it had proven too loud to concentrate.

Already, she had had enough. On any other day, Rose would be in on the fun, but today, she found herself more eager to get into her books and think to herself about the Sorting Hat. Like Albus, she was more nervous about school than anything (donning her robes had been a preparatory measure, just in case she forgot during the train ride). Gathering her things, she managed a small smile at Albus that seemed to say 'see you later' and slid out of the compartment.

She was immediately surprised by the sheer number of people on the train, though she supposed that it did carry first-through-seventh years. Still, there was not an empty compartment in sight. Most held two or three people at the very least, and almost none of them appeared to be close to her age. Finally, after she had lugged her books, parchment and quills down the entire length of the train, she stumbled upon a compartment that contained only one young wizard who looked like a first year. He had his nose buried in a book—the same one she had attempted to delve into, she noticed—and messy blonde hair.

It was only when she eased open the compartment door and asked if she could be seated that the boy looked up, and it was only then that she noticed he was none other than Scorpius Malfoy. A knot twisted in her stomach—this was the boy her father warned her about, the one with the last name he always seemed to italicize ('so, I heard _Malfoy_ has a son on his way to Hogwarts this year,' he had said to Rose's mother when he thought his daughter was out of earshot once). Yet here she was, in his compartment with him, and he seemed more afraid of her than she was of him.

"S-Sure," he stammered. The young boy managed a tiny, wavering smile as he took note of what she was carrying. "Y-You're trying to read _A History of Magic_, too?" He set down his quill (apparently, Scorpius had been taking notes) and pushed aside the small pile of candy next to him, offering Rose a seat.

For a moment, she couldn't decide if she wanted to take the offered place next to Scorpius or flee back to her cousins in their noisy compartment. On one hand, this had to have been the quietest place on the train, but on the other hand, she was forced to share it with the one person her family did not approve of. What would any of her relatives think if they saw her… fraternizing with the enemy, so to speak? Still, this boy didn't _look_ like an enemy. He looked like a studious first-year who was intent on making notes before his professors had a chance to give a single lecture. In other words, he looked much like Rose.

"So, how far are you in the book? You can copy my notes if you want."

"I haven't had a chance to start," said Rose, her cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. She pushed a strand of her curly ginger hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. "My cousins were too loud when I started trying to read it, so I came here."

Scorpius smiled wider. "You're in luck then. I'm already halfway through chapter five." He held up his parchment, showing her elegantly written notes. "Take it. You can give it back when you've finished writing everything down."

Rose wasted no time rolling up the parchment given to her and placing it in her bag with various other school supplies. She returned Scorpius' smile readily, but after a few moments she realized that there was nothing left to say. The notes had been her saving grace and provided things to discuss, but the blonde boy had closed his book and tucked it away. She looked around the compartment, desperately searching for something intriguing to say.

"So," she began, already floundering in the conversation she had started. "Are you, er… excited for Quidditch? I've been to a few games with my aunt—she's the senior commenter for the _Prophet_—but I think Hogwarts matches will be different, right?"

Scorpius shrugged. "Father got me a broom, but I'm no good at flying yet. Grandfather has a private box, when we do watch games."

"A private box? We've got one, too, but that's all thanks to Aunt Ginny. How did your family-?" At this, Rose's scarf went from its usual maroon colour (which she loathed) to a peculiar shade of orange that reminded Scorpius of an apricot.

"Your scarf—it just—"

"Changed colour? Yeah, Mum charmed it because when Gran Weasley knitted it, it was that ghastly reddish colour. Now it changes when my mood does, and I reckon Quidditch makes me happy, so… now it's orange."

Rose knew that the charm was something basic for her mother, but she grinned at the way Scorpius lit up. She held up the two ends of her scarf—one end marked with an 'R', the other with a 'W'. "See?" she said, "It stands for Rose Weasley."

The scarf had made quick work of whatever hesitation either of them harbored before. It wasn't long before Rose was disclosing details about the traditional Weasley Quidditch matches, the positions of her mother and father in the Ministry, how she already knew the Herbology professor and how he, too, had been an Auror like her father. She spoke dramatically, with sound effects and broad, sweeping gestures; her stories must have taken up at least a couple of hours. Scorpius regarded her with a look between incredulousness and wonder, turning away from her only to open a chocolate frog that had been lying on his seat for some time now. He handed her a pack of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, which she happily accepted. After eating the frog, he glanced at the card that was still in the package.

"My cousin's named after 'im!" Rose piped up once she'd seen silver hair and half-moon glasses of Albus Dumbledore, though her mouth was still full of candy. "An' Dad says he was the best Headmaster that Hogwarts has ever seen." Finishing her mouthful of beans, she tilted her head curiously. "So, what House do you think you'll be sorted into?"

The smile Scorpius had donned as he gazed at her scarf's new colour—turquoise—had vanished almost immediately, replaced by a solemn look. "Grandfather's hoping for Slytherin, and Father says it's likely. But—" he paused to exhale lengthily, "—I don't want to be in Slytherin. I've heard all kinds of nasty things about the witches and wizards who come out of there—even He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Why would I want to be in that House, even if—"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was a Slytherin?" Rose interjected. She spoke so quickly that Scorpius couldn't have finished his sentence even if he had wanted to. "I didn't even know he attended Hogwarts, let alone that he was a Slytherin. I can see why poor Al's so scared of it!" She fiddled with one end of her scarf, setting down her box of beans. "Dad says he'll disinherit me if I'm anything but a Gryffindor, but Mum says he's kidding. Auntie Ginny bets that I'll end up in Ravenclaw, if anything. You look like a Ravenclaw, I think."

"I-I do?" Scorpius' cheeks turned a pale shade of pink (though that was the darkest Rose had seen them so far) and he sported what she might call an ear-to-ear grin.

As Rose opened her mouth to respond, the train came to a halt. Every first-year piped up with excitement and, like all the others, Rose and Scorpius stood to gather their things. Rose had hardly made it out of the compartment that she and Scorpius had shared when her cousins came running up to her, asking just where she'd gone and why. Albus looked particularly disgruntled, as Rose had left him alone with their rather rowdy relatives for the entirety of the train ride. When she finally got the chance to look back at the compartment she'd come out of, Scorpius was gone.

She'd soon forgotten about the mysterious and surprisingly generous boy from the train, though, as the first years were quickly led to the boats that would take them all to the castle. She sat in a boat with Albus and two other first years that she didn't know. They were identical, with mousy brown hair and steely blue-grey eyes. They introduced themselves as Emmy and Elizabeth Finnigan and during the duration of the boat ride, they appeared to be looking for something below the water's surface that none of the others could see. Rose noticed that Albus was trembling, though she did not know if it was due to nerves or cold. Nevertheless, she placed her hand over his and, when he looked at her, offered him a smile.

As the group of children were led into the Hogwarts entrance, Rose felt that she lacked most of the splendor that the other first years showed. She had heard plenty about the grandeur of the entrance and the even greater magnificence of the Great Hall—particularly, its enchanted ceiling. Of course she was delighted to finally be with these things, but the scarf betrayed what was really on her mind. Its colour was a murky grey—to her amusement, it looked like the scarf was woven out of rolling fog—while her eyes peeled the crowd in search of the mess of platinum blonde hair she had grown to know during the train ride. Finally, she spotted him standing alone on the outskirts of the crowd, paying attention to someone's toad that had escaped (as most of them did, Rose's mother had said when they had shopped for a pet).

She was about to make her way towards him, despite what Albus might have said about it, but the very aged Professor Flitwick caught everyone's attention first.

"Attention, first years!" he called. The first years looked around, but none of them were able to quickly find the professor that stood at half their height; finally, after a few moments, he was spotted in front of the doors to the Great Hall. Rose heard the chatter coming from inside the Hall begin to die down, so she could make a few guesses at what was about to happen. Finally, the expected excitement bubbled up within her. They were about to see the Great Hall for the first time; more importantly, they were all about to be sorted! Her mind began to wander immediately as she pondered whether she might end up in Ravenclaw or perhaps Gryffindor, or maybe even Hufflepuff if the Hat so chose. The clamour that had risen in her mind drowned out Flitwick entirely, even though he was practically shouting to overcome the whisperings of most of the other first years.

She was jarred from her thoughts only when a few people bumped into her; Rose noticed that they only did so because as her mother had detailed, it was time to line up. Everyone had already crammed in front of her, which pushed Rose towards the back of the line. She huffed out a small sigh: she couldn't see over anyone, thanks to her height.

It hardly mattered, though; Rose could still easily see the Great Hall and its four tables, along with the ceiling that was enchanted to look like a starry night. She saw the banners of all four Houses and marveled at the vibrancy of each of the colour combinations. The young girl had become so caught up in glancing between Gryffindor's and Ravenclaw's banners that when the rest of the first years stopped, she bumped into the boy in front of her. Rose whispered a quick 'Sorry!' and turned to face the four long tables that stretched out before the first years.

It certainly did not take long to Sort those ahead of Rose, when Flitwick had finished speaking and the song had been sung. Amidst her thoughts, she heard the Hat triumphantly shout, "Hufflepuff!" or, a little less often, "Gryffindor!" followed equally by, "Ravenclaw!" So far, there had only been three students for which the Hat bellowed, "Slytherin!" Again, Rose was pulled from her meandering thoughts by the sight of the still-peculiar Scorpius Malfoy, who was to be sorted next.

If Albus had looked scared in the boat, then Scorpius was midway through a full-scale panic attack. His scrawny body was nothing but tremors and quivers as he slowly stepped up to meet Professor Flitwick and the Sorting Hat. From what she could see, all eyes in the Hall were on Scorpius Malfoy, which was more than could be said for the other students so far. As the Hat was placed on his head, the young boy did his best to pull it over his eyes—it looked like he desperately wished to be somewhere, anywhere but Hogwarts, and covering his eyes offered the removal he so desired.

There was a long moment of silence. Rose had heard her mother say that sometimes the Hat takes a while to decide, and for Scorpius, this was exactly the case. She wondered if maybe she would be right, if the hat would boldly shout out "RAVENCLAW!" and the whole of the table would cheer for him. She contemplated Albus' fear of Slytherin, James' teasing that the darkly tinted house might call her cousin one of its own. Scorpius had the same fear—perhaps he was begging the Hat not to place him where the emerald and silver banners hung?

Then, suddenly, "GRYFFINDOR!"

The idle chatter in the Great Hall, though already quiet compared to when the first years had entered it, immediately died down. Rose glanced back at the professors; most of them were whispering to one another, looking clearly baffled. Within moments, the students of the four Houses began whispering, each taking time to stop whispering, stare at Scorpius, and converse once more. Of all the students, those of Slytherin and Gryffindor looked most puzzled of all, which left Rose to wonder if the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs simply did not care much.

It was only when Scorpius stood that Rose realized several minutes had passed, each one filled with quiet whispers and looks that were curious, proud, or intimidating. His entire body shook as he walked silently to the table on the far left. She may have thought him an automaton of some sort, had he not been trembling. The Gryffindors all watched him approach, still as bewildered as when the Hat had called out his placement. When he took his seat, the Gryffindors nearest him shuffled away as much as the packed table would allow them. Rose could see that most did not bother speaking with him—those who did had nasty expressions on their faces and Scorpius' form seemed to shrink at their words.

"Enough!" called an exasperated Flitwick. When the students paid him no mind, he raised his wand to his throat and shouted once more, "ENOUGH!"

The Hall fell silent. "Thank you. Now, who's next? Ah, yes—Nox, Madelyn!"

Within an instant, "RAVENCLAW!" and the sorting resumed from there. Albus, once sorted, had turned around to flash a grin at Rose before making his way to the Gryffindor table. She nearly let out a sigh once she'd seen that he paid Scorpius absolutely no mind, but she chose to say silent—with Flitwick nearby, she was not in the mood to cause any disturbance.

Finally, it was her turn to place the Hat upon her head. It was kept from falling over her face by her hair, which supported it rather well. She could feel innumerable pairs of eyes on her, but all of that was washed away when she closed her eyes and the Hat spoke.

"Ah, certainly not a bad mind, here! Very eager to learn, yes, very eager indeed. But—what's this? Yes, you're a Weasley, no doubt. Courage just like most of the others before you, that's for sure. But which one takes precedence? Curious… well… it'll have to be… GRYFFINDOR!"

As she opened her eyes, she noticed Albus and James grinning particularly widely, along with the rest of the Gryffindor table. She felt welcomed, just as at-home as she usually felt at her parents' house or The Burrow, as she made her way to the table of her new House. She was clapped on the shoulder by James and Albus swung his arm over her other shoulder, while Dominique, Fred, Roxanne, and Molly all smiled at her from across the table. Rose couldn't help but glance at Neville, who sat at the High Table along with the other professors. He waved at her and smiled before she turned back; out of the corner of her eye, Rose could see Scorpius attempting a small smile in her direction.

"Attention, everyone!" called a very old Minerva McGonagall called out. She was Headmistress now—Neville had told her parents that she was doing a great job of it, even in her old age. "I have a few first of term announcements…"

For what was certainly not the first time this evening, Rose found herself deliberately not listening to a professor. She hoped it would not continue like this—what sort of a student would she become if this habit was not 'nipped in the bud', so to speak? For now, though, she found herself straining her ears so she might hear the quiet whispers of a few Gryffindors near Scorpius.

"How did you trick the Hat?" asked one.

"Looking for _glory_, eh, Malfoy?"

"Rubbish. His dad should be in _Azkaban_ and he's got the nerve to send his son back to this place—"

"Come off it!"

"Why should I? It's a shame that Malfoys have made their way into this House, especially after the battle, after his whole family dodged prison…"

The knot that formed in Rose's stomach forced her into silence, although she wasn't quite sure of what she might say if she had been able to speak. She hadn't thought Gryffindors to be this… this abhorrent to one another, especially not on the first day of school…

The rest of dinner was dismal; after McGonagall had stopped explaining the rules (after the stories she'd heard, it wasn't like Rose was going to go into the forest anyway), the mutterings about Scorpius Malfoy had picked up once more.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of Scorpius being talked about and jeered at, Dominique stood and shouted, "Put a cork in it, the lot of you!" Her prefect's badge caught the light of one of the torches in the Hall and gleamed brightly, and she flashed a smile as the table went quiet again. "Thank you."

There was a rather long and awkward pause before Fred broke the silence with, "So, James, are you trying out for Quidditch this year? I hear they're looking for a Seeker this go 'round."

James responded with, "'Course I am. What kind of Potter would I be if I didn't? I think Mum might disinherit me this year if I don't try out." The entire group of Potters and Weasleys had a good laugh over it and before long, the rest of the table joined in on the merriment—that is, all except for Scorpius Malfoy. The blonde boy kept his head down and ate in silence, not daring to look up at any of his new housemates.

Later, Dominique and another Gryffindor prefect, Brodrick Finnigan, led the first years up to Gryffindor Tower. Rose thanked her stars—Dominique's outburst earlier seemed to have quieted the Scorpius commentary for the duration of the night.

The rest of Gryffindor had long since gone to bed when Rose Weasley stepped out of her dormitory. She was clad in a nightdress, but one of her father's old shirts covered most of her own nightwear. Her hair was positively frizzy, just like her mother's, and Albus noticed that she seemed younger than she was when she appeared in the common room. The large armchairs seemed to eat up her tiny body, but the flickering firelight still betrayed the shaking of her shoulders.

"Rosie?" said Albus quietly. He had been up for hours now and had only noticed her when she plopped into an armchair facing away from the fire.

She tensed before she looked back at him slowly. "I want to write Mum and Dad a letter, and I tried to, but then—" she sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her father's sleeve—"I started crying and the ink ran."

Albus had made his way to her as she spoke, and now he was climbing over an arm of the chair so he could squeeze in beside his cousin. "C'mon, crying on the first day? This from the girl who swore she'd be a beater once it came time to join the Quidditch team. We'll see them at Christmas, which isn't so far away, right? Besides, I reckon that soon enough you'll ignore their letters until you get a Howler."

Just then, someone sneezed, and Scorpius Malfoy cursed aloud. He had been perched in an armchair in a shadowy corner of the common room, writing on a piece of parchment laid on top of one of his Albus and Rose looked at him, he did his absolute best to grin. He had a quill in hand, with an inkwell and an envelope on the arm of his chair.

"Sorry," he said. "Er, late night studying."

Albus laughed, "So you and my sister are _both_ writing letters on the first night?" He seemed completely oblivious to the hours prior, and Scorpius regarded the middle Potter child with a half-smile.

"My dad said this might happen, and to write him if—_when_ it does," he said quietly. "I just…" He abruptly returned to writing his letter, writing as quickly as anyone could.

Rose, who had stopped crying at some point, piped up with, "Dad said Gryffindors were nothing like this. I don't know why they made fun of you tonight."

"Y-Yeah," Albus managed. "What she said. I think it'll stop soon, though. Our relatives don't have an attention span long enough for this to keep going." Rose giggled before pulling her father's sweater over her knees.

The night was spent with awkward small talk about school—schedules, classes and which would be everyone's favourite (Defence Against the Dark Arts was Albus' pick, while Rose and Scorpius were both tied between Potions and Charms). Overnight, an unspoken pact formed: conversations just like this one would definitely take place again, and Rose and Albus would be Scorpius' one defence against the onslaught of family-related remarks.


End file.
